A witch can hope
by MyVintageLove
Summary: "She had that unique way of opening the portrait on her way in, with a flourish, for her life was this grand performance and everyone around her was a spectator." AU w/ character swap


Things that happen when manips on Tumblr are inspiring and you feel the need to write some Jily fluff.

* * *

He didn't have to look up from his book to know it was her. She had that unique way of opening the portrait on her way in, with a flourish, for her life was this grand performance and everyone around her was a spectator. Yet, raising his head he did, and he watched her as she ran across the room, her Quidditch robe and her hair floating behind her like two flags made of fire. She was unaware of the mud she was leaving on her way, or maybe she didn't care (James opted for the second option). With a smirk on her lips, the one she seemed to never get rid of, she stopped by a table where the three others Marauders were busy playing chest – or, rather, Remus was busy hammering Peter and Sirius was laughing at the latter – and plopped on Sirius' lap like it was the most natural thing in the word, and he nuzzled against her neck with a matching smirk. It was said Sirius Black and Lily Evans were like brother and sister. If there was a thing James was sure of, it was the fact Petunia and he had never acted that way.

James didn't realised he was staring at her until Black whispered something in her ear and she turned her head to look at him. He felt his cheeks burning, especially when she winked at him in a provocative way, and focused back on his book immediately. Still, her laugh wasn't left unnoticed to him, the laugh she had for him and only him when she would openly flirt with him. He hated her for that. He hated himself for not hating her at all.

With a couple of minutes, and even if he was still able to hear their low chuckles, James managed to focus on his Charms book again. But studying in peace in the Common Room was difficult (if not impossible) and he was only half-surprised when someone disturbed him again. And not surprised at all that it was _her_. She came from behind, leaning against the back of his couch, and when he looked up, it was to see her upside down with her arms folded on the furniture. Her Head Girl badge shining on her Quidditch jumper was a strange image.

"What do you want, Evans?" He didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Trip to Hosmeade next Saturday. Nobody invited me to go with them..."

He sighed loudly, knowing perfectly why she was saying such a thing. Merlin, this girl was so predictable sometimes. "Good for you," he replied lazily, "Hogsmeade is more enjoyable when not on a date anyway."

She ignored completely what he had just said, and he was impressed by her way to wash all emotions away from her face, only a small smile on her red lips. "Rumour has it you're alone too. We could go together."

"I don't think so," and he went back to reading his book as to make clear the conversation was over. She was really bad at taking those kinds of hints. And, when she started playing with his hair from the tip of her fingers, he found it hard not to close his eyes, for it was so _nice_. He stifled a noise of appreciation.

"One day, I'll have you ask me out." It was a fact, in a whisper, and he was surprised at how determined she sounded. He had seen many boys chasing after girls for months before. But never the other way around and never for years. The girl was too stubborn for her own good.

"A witch can hope..."

He didn't understand why it made her giggle, or why she bent down to kiss his cheek (and she smelt good, despite the Quidditch practice). As she stood straight and went back to her friends, he followed her with his eyes. When she looked at him above her shoulder, her smile was gone, haze in her green eyes. She looked annoyed that their eyes met, and immediately looked away. He knew he had caught a glimpse of something he wasn't supposed to see.

* * *

He was welcomed by excited whispers, when he entered the room and, even before noticing the tables had vanished, he knew what it meant: no theoretical class today. Those were the most interesting Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. James slipped in the room and found himself a place near the teacher, who was waiting for the students to enter and calm down. When the door closed behind them, they all looked at him expectantly. "Patronus charm!" he exclaimed, and it was enough for everyone to whisper happily again.

The ten first minutes of the class were for explanations about the spell, ones James knew by heart but it didn't stop him from listening carefully to the professor. Then they were free to practice. James had to admit, this class deserved the whispers, for it was an exciting one – all classes with difficult spells were. Yet, after a few minutes of silver smoke out of his wand, he had to admit this wasn't as easy to him as he had expected it to be. Focusing on a happy memory was hard, for all his childhood memories was related to Petunia or Severus – and neither of them brought happy thoughts now – and all his more recent ones had the war casting a shadow over them – his family, school, London, everything. It was depressing, and the smoke on the tip of his wand disappeared. He sighed heavily as a hysterical laugh filled the room.

He turned his head to see one Lily Evans – for that kind of laugh could only belong to her – breathless as she had her arms folded against her belly, an equally laughing Sirius with his head on her shoulder. Both of them had their wand in hand, and two perfect corporal Patronuses were in front of them. The doe and the big dog, instead of simply standing and waiting to protect their wizard, were playing together, jumping and hitting one another. And, for some obscure reason, it was hilarious. Peter was focusing too much on his own spell to react, but even Remus had an impish smile on his lips. Stupid Marauders.

James chose to imitate Peter and focus on his own wand again. It was hard, but not impossible. Not to him. There wasn't a spell James Potter couldn't cast. Picking the right memory was the tricky part, everything else was easy. Lily's chortle rang to his ears again, and he closed his eyes to focus on the sound. It was weird, he knew, something he wasn't supposed to do. But he was only a man, and there were things a witch would do without leaving him cold. When he said the spell, the silver figure startle him, and he had to grip on his wand not to let it fall. The smoke took shape and…

_Oh_.

He looked at the silver stag in amazement, not believing he had succeeded only to get that kind of Patronus. That was wrong, oh so wrong, and he wasn't the only one to notice. When he raised his head, it was only to meet those green eyes he knew too well. Those green eyes that were trying to pierce holes in his skull right now. If looks could kill, he would have died in a second. She wasn't upset, she was fucking furious. And everybody was staring at the doe and the stag. And he knew perfectly why, but he didn't care, not looking away from her.

Sirius put a hand on her arm, but she shoved him aside, and the fire in her eyes made James take a step back. He knew those eyes, the ones she usually reserved for Slytherins, and could see the troubles coming. She was coming too, in long stride, and before he could even understand what was about to happen, the slap echoed in the room. Muffled laughs (from the boys) and yelps (from the girls) followed, but James couldn't care less. Because tears hadreplaced anger in her eyes, and it was so unexpected it amazed him. "Evans…?"

She turned around in a theatrical manner and stomped off. James couldn't help but share a look with Sirius, and he didn't know if the other's boy confused eyes were a relief or not. He watched her leave the room, her doe fading away, his stag vanishing too, feeling everyone else looking at him expectantly. Maybe it was because he was the sudden centre of the attention, maybe it was the tears in her eyes, but last thing he knew, he was running after her. (He barely even noticed he had left a class for the first time in his life.) She was leaning against the wall, not so far away, breathing loudly as to refrain from sobbing.

"Get lost."

"Evans, I…"

"I don't fucking want to see your fucking face now, Potter!"

He winced at the double swearing but got closer to her anyway, until they were only a few inches from one another. She sighed loudly and, as she looked up to him, the tears in her eyes were even more obvious.

"You're a clever boy, Potter." He tried to ignore the sarcasm in her voice. "You know what matching Patronuses mean."

"I…"

She didn't let him speak. "You know, you fucking know. Do you think this is some kind of game? Do you think it's funny, leading a girl on?"

"Evans, I…"

She kept ranting, over and over again, but he couldn't focus on her words – he knew he ought to, but he simply couldn't – for the spectacle of her face was too thrilling. Lily Evans, he realised, was beautiful. Not pretty, not cute, not just good looking. Perfectly beautiful. The mere thought took his breath away.

"Shut up, Lily!"

And shut up she did, looking at him, scandalised, mouth ajar, and she seemed right about to yell at him again. He didn't give her the time, his lips were already on hers, his hands on her hips. She froze and, for a second, he thought she was about to reject him. But her hands found their way to his hair as she deepened the kiss. It was all tongues and teeth and hands on one another's body, warmth everywhere, as he pinned her against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He let out a groan, for he was only a man after all, and she chuckled against his lips as she gently rubbed her hips against his. The girl would be the death of him, he thought as one of his hands brushed her skin underneath her skirt. It was his turn to chuckle when she bit on his bottom lip with a moan. The sound was heavenly and he had to remember they were in the middle of a corridor.

First kisses weren't supposed to be like that.

When they stopped, it was only because they were out of air, taking long panting breaths. He leant his forehead against hers, eyes close, as he gripped hers tights not to let her fall.

"Potter…"

It was his time to cut her off. "Soul mates. Matching Patronuses mean soul mates."

She grinned.


End file.
